


Blue Suede Shoes

by Poemsingreenink



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Fantasy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-07-29 10:09:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16262036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poemsingreenink/pseuds/Poemsingreenink
Summary: Goodnight is a merman, and Billy is a dryad brought together through the most romantic of events....political trade talks.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by Tumblr user whereverigobillygoes wonderful art! 
> 
> https://whereverigobillygoes.tumblr.com/post/170183630444/plantsflowers-billy-and-water-goody

The shoes Goodnight was presented with were blue, dark as a night-time wave, and soft as wet sand. Silver laces crisscrossed across the tongue, and they led to toes that were trimmed in a thin silver plate. When Goodnight slipped them over his newly crafted feet he nodded approvingly at the way they winked in the bright moonlight. They matched the blue suit, white under shirt, silver tie, and pocket square he’d been given to wear on land, but thankfully the suit was made of a lighter fabric.

 

“They’re suede,” the excited banshee tailor told him. “The shoes I mean. You can’t get them wet, but since you’ll be visiting with us for the next few months I thought you might like to try something unique for the experience. Are they to your taste?”

 

Goodnight gave her a smile that he hoped looked looser than the shoes felt.

 

“They’re lovely. We thank you for your thoughtfulness and your hospitality.”

 

Beaming, she offered him her arm, and he took the first of many steps away from the cashing ocean waves and crisp salt smell of the sea.

 

*******

 

There were chairs everywhere they went. Chairs rushed out to the throne room after they’d brought greetings, gifts and bows to the banshee queen. Chairs lined up neatly in the clearings of green-grass forests where famed banshee singers performed for the eight visiting dignitaries. Chairs scattered across the center ballroom instead of banished to the walls to wait like disobedient children.

 

“We understand that prolonged standing can be uncomfortable for your kind,” a large, nervous banshee lady (They were all ‘ladies’, this being a banshee court and all, but ‘lady’ as it turns out was also the appropriate honorific for most the individuals they encounter) explained when Faraday loudly wondered about the chairs quick appearances.

 

“The stories about your people’s trips to the land are rarely kind.” She glanced to the middle of the room where Vasquez was spinning the queen in a quick, energetic dance across the marble tiles. Her consort was clapping along with the beat of the song, and laughing merrily.

 

“We’ve head of Mers who danced on legs, but felt as though they moved across bits of jagged glass. There are stories where blood pools in their shoes, and stains the silk of their stockings. We are just showing concern for your comfort.”

 

Sam shot Goodnight a pointed looked, and Goody raised a hand to his chest, wounded at being blamed for such a fairy tale. He unconsciously shifted from one uncomfortable foot to the other, his toe squashed against the shoe’s tip, and the back of his heel rubbed bloody from all the walking they’d done. He hated walking. 

 

“Walking can be uncomfortable for us,” Sam said. “We appreciate the concern, but I assure you that it’s nothing that dramatic.”

 

**********

 

“Being bipedal is the worst thing that has ever happened to me. If you wanted to kill me, why didn’t you just let me beach myself like a whale? I could have gone out with some dignity at least.”

 

Sam ignored him, too busy reading the report Red Harvest had cobbled together to dignify Goody’s complaints with an answer.

 

He was sprawled over Sam’s bed, his head hanging off the edge, and the terrible blue suede shoes thrown against the wall. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Emma sitting on the floor. She’d pressed her stretched out legs together, and was rocking her bare feet back-and-forth, back-and-forth. It was such a pale reflection of a move usually done with her missing flukes and tail that Goodnight had to close his eyes and look away.

 

“All this fussing about chairs,” Emma sighed. Her face was white as foam, and her freckles fever bright against the skin. “A pool would have been a smarter idea. Something full of salt water that we could have dunked into at the end of the day.”

 

Sam didn’t answer her either, just flipped to the next page, his fingers pausing to carefully skim under a line of ink splattered text.

 

“Horne found something called ‘Crocs’,” Vasquez offered from his place on the love seat. There were bags of ice resting atop his shins, and Teddy was trying his best to massage the man’s left foot while also massaging his own right foot at the same time. “He says they’re comfortable.”

 

“He also sent the royal tailor into hysterics over the ‘insult’ of wearing them,” Emma said with a sigh. “I thought they only screamed to announce an oncoming death. She just about made my ears bleed.”

 

“Ya’ll should just do what I’m doing,” Faraday said. He saluted into the room with a half empty bottle of whiskey. “Just keep yourself nice and drunk. I haven’t felt anything in days.”

 

No one bothered to respond to that.

 

*******

 

As the weeks went by, and the main members of their delegation dug into the trade agreements, the pomp and circumstance of their visit faded. Sam needed Red Harvest for discussions of trade, and Emma and Horne for matters of security, but the rest of them were mostly there to smooth relations along with the larger court, and with the pageantry out of the way Goodnight was left mostly to his own devices. 

 

He played his own part well enough. Banshees liked to drink just like every other sentient creature Goody’d ever conversed with, and they like singing and fighting even more, but while Goodnight was a social creature he possessed limits on the length of time he was willing to stay in a large crowd. It was why one clear morning he slipped away after breakfast, and took a walk through the surrounding woods.

 

The banshee lands were surrounded by high snowy peaked mountains, but Goodnight purposely ventured away from them. He was already far enough from the sea thank you very much, and had no real interest in getting closer to the sky.

 

The trees of the forests were tall and numerous, and while he couldn’t name many of them they wasn’t a completely alien sight. Mers lived much like harbor seals, preferring to stay near the ocean and the beach where they lived and played, but they were capable of traveling across the land when they wanted, and this wasn’t Goodnight’s first diplomatic mission.

The main problem was, and always had been, the mode of travel. Just because each step wasn’t agony didn’t mean Goodnight particularly enjoyed possessing legs, and feet, and it didn’t take long to realize that walking was a terrible idea, because walking itself was just plain terrible. His feet ached in the blue suede shoes. They had been uncomfortable on smooth terrain, and across hilly grass were practically useless. The muscles in his newly magicked legs screamed, and cramped and the speed of it was so slow it made him sick.

 

In the ocean he was as swift as a sunbeam skipping across the swaying surface. He was as fast as a flash, and strong as crashing wave. Here he was a stumbling old man, ready for the current to gently wash him into kinder tide pools.

 

He was about to give up, and head back when he walked out of a crop of tall maples, and saw the most beautiful sight in the world; water. A large, glistening circle of beautiful water.

 

Fresh water or salt, Goodnight was capable of exiting in both, and while his life had mostly been spent ocean bound he wasted no time tossing the shoes off his feet, and practically ripping the pants off to show off his bone white legs. He left his clothes in a trail down the shore, and while the chilly sand wasn’t as welcomed as a sun-warmed beach Goodnight forgave all of it the moment he dove under the water.

 

The water was cold enough to hurt Goodnight’s teeth, and sent welcomed goosebumps across the flesh of his arms, and torso. They traveled as low as his waist when he broke the spell round his legs, snapping it like an overly stretched rubber band, and said hello to his fins.

 

The spell that crafted flesh from scale would have to be woven again, and it would probably exhaust him. Make the walk back all the more irritating, but he didn’t care. Vasquez would grumble about needing to _fix_ his spell work in order to make it last, and Faraday would whine that he’d been left behind to talk nice with the banshee ladies who had no interest in what he had to offer, but those were concerns for a future time. All he cared about now was the slide of the water across his skin, and how it muffled the loud sharp world. Schools of fish darted out of his way as Goodnight glided, and he felt so grateful for the return to his natural habitat that he didn’t even snag one for a snack.

 

He lost track of time as he swam, soaking in the feel of comfort and tranquility that was always maddeningly out of reach when he had to sport legs. It wasn’t until the sun was high in the sky that he came back to himself, and grudgingly swam back to the shore where his clothes were waiting.

 

To his surprise, he found that his clothes had company.

 

There was a man on the beach, and for one panicked moment Goodnight’s brain screamed ‘human!’ Humans were a problem. They weren’t always a danger exactly, but they were best avoided before they caused headaches or heartache. Still, whoever this was didn’t feel like a human despite looking like one from a distance, and instead of diving out of sight Goodnight let curiosity crush all common sense and swam closer to get a better look.

 

The man was bare-chested, with black hair that fell to his shoulders and a pair of dark green sweat pants hanging off his hips. From a distance Goodnight had assumed that the man’s golden skin was covered in tattoos, but when he moved into the light stepping off the rich earth and onto the sand the tattoos twisted and shifted across his body like thin shadows. Not a human then, but what Goodnight still couldn’t guess.

 

He had one of Goodnight’s blue suede shoes in his hand, and was peering at it with a frown.

 

When he looked up he caught and held Goodnight’s gaze, and an entire conclave of feelings stomped heavily on any instinct that would of sent Goodnight swimming for the opposite end of the lake.

 

“I don’t like humans here,” the other man called. “Leave.”

 

Goodnight snorted, and with a flip of his fins swam closer. There was a rock a little ways down that jutted out across the surface like a naturally made pier, and he hulled himself atop it curling his tail underneath him like a seal.

 

The other man blinked. “You’re a fish.”

 

Being put in the same category as his supper didn’t fill Goodnight was a rush of affection, and he opened his mouth to say so when he got his first real look at the shadows that played across the man’s skin. They were leaf patterned, and moved across him like the rustling of the leaves in the high trees. There were flowers, bright blue and purple in his hair, and one, then another, and then another blossomed along the shell of the man’s ear in such profound irritation that Goodnight felt all thoughts of malice leave him.

 

“You’re-” Goodnight paused. “You’re holding my shoe.”

 

The man looked from the shoe to Goodnight.

 

“Your scales match you shoe.”

 

Goodnight glanced to his tail, a mixture of dark blue and silver scales that glittered in the noon day sun, and sighed at the memory of the happy little banshee seamstress who had looked so proud when presenting him with his suit. It could have been worse. Faraday had been wrapped in a bright pink and green stripped silk number that reminded Goodnight of a peppermint stick for weeks. Vasquez had laughed himself sick upon seeing it, and even Red had cracked a smile.

 

“Yes, I imagine that was on purpose.”

 

The man sat on the sand, cross-legged and with Goodnight’s shoe in his lap.

 

“I wore shoes to visit the king once,” he said, gently running his finger up and down the silver trimmed toes his finger taking in the textured difference of soft suede to smooth metal. “I said I’d never do it again. It was terrible.”

 

Goodnight blinked. As far as he knew the banshee court was the only collection of fey nobles in the area, and unless there was a very interesting story hidden in their history ‘kings’ weren’t in high supply.

 

“I can’t say I’m looking forward to putting them back on,” Goodnight said. “I’m not meant to have feet to begin with, and covering them up when I’ve gone to the trouble to create them seems like pure foolishness to me.” 

 

Billy’s gaze slid to Goodnight’s tail.

 

“What are you?” He finally asked. “I’ve never seen something like you in any of my lakes or rivers.”

 

Goodnight laughed. “That’s a hell of a question to ask when we haven’t even exchanged names. My name is Goodnight. I’m a Mer, and I traveled into these hills to play nice with the banshee court. I’m traditionally more ocean bound.”

 

A collection of red poppy flowers, dark as fresh blood, lived and died in a matter of seconds across the other man’s forehead like a crown. He picked one out absentmindedly before it could wilt, and twirled it between his fingers.

 

“And yourself?” Goodnight pressed. “I don’t imagine you’re related to the banshees, lovely as those ladies are. I must admit, I’ve never seen anything like you splashing around my waves and waters.”

 

“I’m Billy,” he said. “I’m the forest.”

 

Questions washed through Goodnight’s mind, and he drowned each as they surfaced.  Even if Billy was willing, answers might include complications that he wasn’t in the mood to untangle. And Goodnight was sick of talking politics, monarchs and nobles so he let the question die atop his tongue. Instead, Goodnight stretched himself over his sun warmed rock, and motions for Billy to join him.

 

“Pleasure to meet you Billy of the Forest. Why don’t you stretch out here and join me. Far as I can tell, forests like sunlight as much as I do.”

 

To Goodnight’s great surprise, he did. Lying next to him on the sand, with Goodnight’s shoe between them, and the sun warm on their skin.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day there was a new tree outside of Goodnight’s window.

 

He was certain it was new, because his first day at the banshee court he’d praised his balcony’s unobstructed mountain view all while secretly coveting Vasquez and Red’s room. They were the only ones with a room so high up that you could see the smallest strip of the turquoise sea, but Goody supposed that was the kind of privilege that came with being royalty and soon to be married to royalty.

 

The tree was huge, gargantuan really, but the mystery of its appearance was immediately solved when Goodnight spotted Billy sitting among the branches. He was in a different pair of sweat pants, dark blue this time with a bright white Nike swish along the leg, and a white button up that was missing all the buttons which led to a view that was even more spectacular than the mountain range in Goodnight’s honest opinion. He looked bored sitting with his back to the trunk, one leg dangling off a branch that barely held his weight, but he perked up immediately what he spotted Goody.

 

“Usually, the only thing that greets me in the morning is the birds,” Goodnight said. “This is a pleasant surprise.”

 

Billy smirked, walking the length of the branch which grew under his bare feet. It stretching even further away from the trunk of the tree, and then tangling itself with the rails of Goodnight’s balcony in a firm grip until a permanent bridge was created.

 

“Yesterday, you said I should stop by. So I’m stopping by.”

 

Billy hopped onto the balcony with wild violets weaving themselves around the high bun he’d pinned his hair into. His smirk suddenly fell, and the violets drastically wilted.

 

“That’s okay right?” 

 

“I can’t say I know how the master gardener is going to take the new flora,” Goodnight said motioning to the tree. “But I am thrilled to see you. You left before I had a chance to say goodbye.”

 

“You fell asleep,” Billy said with a shrug. “A squirrel needed me. I didn’t want to wake you up.”

 

“Far be it for me to keep you from your squirrel subjects,” Goodnight said.

 

He’d only meant to close a friendly distance between the two of them, but by the time he stopped moving and Billy stopped moving they were close enough that Goodnight was immediately concerned about his morning breath.

 

Something light brushed against him, and he looked down to see Billy lightly running his big toe across the top of Goodnight’s naked foot.

 

“I thought you hated these.”

 

Goodnight snorted. “They are slightly better than the shoes, and when one is a visiting dignitary it is impolite to refuse the gifts that are offered. Especially when they are so helpful. This place doesn’t have so much as a bathtub to its name, and I’ve got to be mobile.”

 

Billy traced a whirl across the delicate skin, looking in no danger of losing his balance even though he was perched on one foot.

 

“Can you feel this? Can you feel everything with your feet and legs?”

 

“Yes, otherwise the damn things wouldn’t ache so much.” Unwilling to let Billy tip over while he was examining Goodnight’s most hated appendage he reached out a hand.

 

“May I?”

 

Billy’s eyes were wide and dark, and studying Goodnight’s face with a fierce intensity. At the other man’s sharp nod Goodnight laid a steady hand atop Billy’s shoulder, and his thumb landed in the middle of the shifting shadows that decorated Billy’s skin.

 

“Can you feel me touching….what are these exactly?”

 

The shadows stopped and encircled Goodnight’s hand. They broke into three maple leaf shadows, connecting tip-to-tip, and then shattered into a cluster of pine needles that ran down Billy’s chest and stomach as though caught on a wind.

 

Billy laughed. “My skin? Of course I can feel my skin.”

 

His foot stopped moving over Goodnight’s, and he leaned forward until their noses brushed. “You smell like salt, and something else. It’s darker. I don’t know how to describe it. What is that?”

 

Hand sliding high to cup Billy’s face Goodnight closed the distance between them to kiss him under the jaw. He felt Billy nuzzled the side of his head, and wondered if he’d find a violet stuck behind his ear later. Putting his foot back on the ground Billy encircled Goodnight’s hips, and pulled him closer. He untucked Goodnight’s shirt, and dug his thumbs into the line of flesh just above the waistband.

 

“I can feel the spell,” Billy said. He whimpered when Goodnight moved to suck hard on his neck. “It buzzes. Do you want me to take it off for you?”

 

Goodnight kissed him hard, and then pulled away with a bright grin. “Best leave the spell on, but there are a few others things I’d love for you to take off.”

 

Taking the forest by the hand, Goodnight led him deep into the shadowed civil twilight of his room. 

 

* * *

 

 

“A spell that will hold through an orgasm is really well-made,” Billy said.

 

The watery sunlight of the early morning had thickened like new cream, and now filled Goodnight’s room with a bright cheerful light.

 

Leaning against Billy’s chest with his feet tangled in the mess of blankets Goodnight took Billy’s hand, and kissed him at the wrist.

 

“That would be Vasquez’s doing. He’s stronger than most in that area.” A small red poppy appeared in front of his face, and he chuckled as he took the flower. “Why thank you _mon cher_. Wish I had a cigarette to offer you. There are few joys for me on land, but I will admit there’s a certain elegant extravagance in breathing in smoke and fire.”

 

“No,” Billy breathed into his ear. “No fire gifts. Is that what your people exchange? Fire?”

 

“Shark teeth actually,” Goodnight said. “And pearls. Seal pups were popular a few centuries ago, but I was never a fan.”

 

Goodnight was weighing the risks of flirtatiously asking if Billy would like a shark tooth of his very own, and also wondering how hard it would be to slip away to acquire it, when the door to his room opened.

 

The maid, an older banshee with streaked hair the color of fire and smoke came in with clean towels, and a pitcher full of fresh water. She took one look at the two of them, dropped the pitcher and screamed.

 

* * *

 

 

“So. You made a friend.”

 

Goodnight resolutely did not look at Sam who he knew would have some insufferable expression on his face, to match his insufferable gold and black suit that he looked insufferably handsome in.

 

“Is your new friend so interesting that you forgot how our hard made clothes work? You’re missing your pocket square, and your tie,” Sam said innocently, airily, like someone who wasn’t in charge of making sure a very important trade deal went though. 

 

Goodnight shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. His shoes were back on, and he was trying to drown out the ache in his feet with the memory of Billy’s big toe tracing patters across the skin. It wasn’t working.

 

“It’s early still. No need to overdress for breakfast,” Goodnight responded.

 

Billy was on the other side of the ballroom, and receiving what looked like a serious dressing down from the Mistress of Etiquette. She was flanked by two additional banshees who were furiously tapping away on identical iPads.

 

“Did your new friend tell you that?” Sam asked. “I feel like he might not be your most reliable source on the subject of clothes.”

 

Billy’d put his pants back on, but in the drama of the events upstairs his shirt had been lost. He looked perfectly at ease in bare feet, nodding seriously at whatever the Mistress of Etiquette was telling him, but there was a rainbow of flowers blooming and dying in his hair at a speed that was making Goodnight concerned. Billy made a motion toward Goodnight and the Mistress of Etiquette’s face went still and panicked. Her two attendants stopped tapping, and both swiveled to look at him as though they were attached to the same neck.

 

Goodnight awkwardly waved.

 

The Mistress of Etiquette burst into tears, and buried her face in her hands.

 

“You know even Faraday has yet to cause an international incident.”

 

“Stop it.”

 

Billy awkwardly patted the banshee on the shoulder. One of her attendants started stroking her hair, and the other one began to sing. They waved Billy away, and Billy took a few steps across the room, and then rushed back to press a bluebell into the crying banshee’s hand.

 

The little trio froze, singing, sobbing and hair stroking all taking a pause as they gapped at him with opened-mouthed surprise.

 

“You can tell me what you want later!” Billy called as he backed away.

 

He sauntered over to Goodnight and Sam with the air of a man who had all the time in the world, but when he reached Goodnight he looked uncertain.

 

“I may have jostled a few things,” Billy said sheepishly. “There’s a whole list of things I’m supposed to do before I visit, and I didn’t do any of them. I have to go speak to the queen.” He paused and looked to both of them. “Do you know which queen they’re on right now?”

 

“Cadenza,” Sam said. “Second of her name, and her consort is named Opus.”

 

“Huh.” Billy scratched his mustache. “I thought that name went out of style after...well it doesn’t matter.” He smiled at Goodnight. “They also want me to stay for dinner. I said I wanted to sit next to you instead of on the dais. That’s when she got upset.”

 

Goodnight peered over Billy’s shoulder. The Mistress of Etiquette had thankfully pulled herself together, and was now giving what was no doubt a long list of instructions to the other two.

 

 “Oh?” Goodnight said, feeling both horrified, and disgustingly pleased at this announcement.

“Who are you exactly?” Sam asked.

 

“I’m the forest.” Billy said. “But only the local one.”

 

He looked to Goodnight. “Don’t worry. They’ll figure it out. I’m going to sit with you.”

 

Sam pointedly looked to Goodnight. Goodnight pointedly ignored him, and instead took Billy’s hand in his, bowed and kissed it.

 

“It would be my honor.”

 

The uncertainty melted away from Billy’s face. He quickly ran both hands through his loose hair, and pulled handfuls of wild blossoms away from the strands.

 

“Here you go,” Billy said, shoving the sizable bouquet into Goodnight’s arms. “I probably won’t see you until dinner. Royalty always takes hours.”

 

And then he was gone following a guard down one of the long hallways of the banshee castle, and leaving Goodnight holding an absolute riot of color in his arms.

 

Goodnight turned to face Sam who’d fixed Goodnight with one perfectly raised eyebrow.

 

“Sam, you didn’t happen to pack any shark teeth did you?”

 

* * *

 

 

The tablets on Banshee Culture that Horne had insisted everyone read had been dry, long winded, and as it turned out, outdated by at least three centuries.

 

They’d arrived to find that what had once been a culture strictly governed by detailed rules in regards to class and position had long ago mellowed. Education, and art was considered every banshee’s right and privilege, and the division of labor so egalitarian that Goodnight was certain he’d seen a member of the high royal circle debating philosophy with several of the maids one morning as they’d hung laundry out to dry as a group.

 

(Why they’d adopted Wi-Fi but not washing machines Goodnight would never understand)

 

But every single one of the old customs, and ancient hierarchies was reborn during the dinner meal. All were required to attend, exception made only for the very ill, and the exact location and decoration of each table and chair was of such importance that an entire Etiquette triad had once flung themselves from the high cliffs after an error in the seating chart was discovered after the meal had been consumed.

 

It was a story Sam had decided Goodnight should hear at least twelve times.

 

“Cliffs, Goodnight,” Sam said during telling number thirteen. “High. Cliffs. Flung themselves right off.”

 

“I get it, Sam.”

 

“I have nightmares about those poor women plummeting to their deaths atop the sharp rocks below. Long hair trailing behind them like jellyfish tentacles.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“If I were the cause of actions like that I’d never be able to live with myself. I’d have to swim off to the Florida Keys, and spend the rest of my days saving dolphins and drowning serial killers just to atone.”

 

Goodnight slapped his hand atop the table. God he missed his tail. He could get such a powerful slap out of his tail. “Okay enough! I took a swim, made a friend, and he came for a visit! You’re making it sound like I club baby seals for entertainment.”

 

“You are not stupid, and you know it’s more than that,” Sam said.

 

To be fair, Goodnight did know it was more than what he’d laid out, but he hadn’t been aware of the weight of Billy’s arrival until they’d arrived at dinner and discovered that their chairs were to be moved to a different table. With every step they’d taken Emma’s eyes had grown wider, and Red Harvest looked more and more uneasy until they were resettled at a round table inches away from the dais.

 

“I thought we weren’t supposed to move during dinner,” Faraday whispered, low and panicked. 

 

“I suppose it’s different if they’re the ones that do the moving,” Horne said.

 

There were four extra seats, and three of them were quickly filled by a trio of banshees who introduced themselves as Teagan, Clio, and Quinn.

 

“Mistresses of Historical Records and Culture,” Teagan said cheerfully. “It’s nice to finally meet all of you face-to-face. May the song of our meeting be hummed for all eternity.”

 

Their chairs were high-backed, and made of a much darker wood than Goodnight’s. There were emeralds winking at him from the edges, and each of them had their own history decorating the back in gold leaf. Goodnight caught sight of four tiny owls etched into the back of Teagan’s to indicate she’d announced four impending deaths, and shivered. He’d heard a banshee wail once while he’d been here. He hoped to never hear it again.

  

“Mer Robicheaux,” Teagan said, her green eyes serious. “They told us you were in the company of the Great Forest Spirit this morning.”

 

From across the table Vasquez winked, and Sam mouthed the words “international incident.” Goodnight gripped his fork, and was about to show him that there was nothing ‘international’ about an incident where you stabbed your own countryman when he saw Billy.  

 

He was trailing behind the Mistress of Etiquette, still barefoot, but in black dress pants and matching button up shirt. His jacket was black silk with white and silver ivy embroidered along the sleeves and over the pockets. He’d repined his hair, but it seemed to be the job of a small twining green vine to regather the strands that insisted on escaping.

 

Halting between Goodnight and Teagan, Billy gave the Mistress of Etiquette a bow, which she returned before retreating. She had the bluebell Billy had presented her with tucked behind her ear.

 

Teagan was on him before Goodnight had a chance to open his mouth. In fact all three Mistresses of History and Culture looked like they were about to burst with joy.

 

“Great Forest Sprit-,” Teagan began.

 

“You can call me Billy.” He said, settling into his own seat, a chair of polished wood with gold leaf etchings of forest creatures and flowers. “My actual name sounds like the wind through trees, and listening to people try and pronounce it irritates me.”

 

Clio clapped both her hands over her mouth to stifle an excited squeal.

                                                                                     

“Billy,” Teagan said as though tasting the word for the first time. “We are the mistresses of historical records and culture. We’ve read quite a lot about you. You were the esteemed and beloved confidant of King Conner and Queen Aoife during the War of Shattered Voices.”

 

A puzzled look drifted across Red’s face, and he glanced to Vasquez.

 

 _There’s that king again,_ Goodnight thought.

 

“Yes, they kept me from burning to the ground, and we had a lot of sex,” Billy confirmed. “Do you want to hear about the war?”

 

Horne turned a bright shade of red, and Teddy blinked several times. Neither Billy nor the banshees looked bothered.

 

“Oh wailing goddess, no,” Quinn said. “A battle, is a battle, is a battle. Who cares about that? We of course record as much of our history as possible, but such uninteresting topics are reserved for newer, and younger members.”

 

Goodnight was starting to wish he’d spent less time complaining about his footwear, and more time exploring the banshee library. 

 

“We have so many recorded accounts of the pleasures enjoyed by our warriors during this time in our history,” Teagan said. “And the royal couple kept rather detailed diaries, but while you feature heavily we never found a written record of your own.”

 

Vasquez was leaning so far forward, that Emma had to grab him by the back of the shirt to keep his royal circlet from sliding off and landing in the salad course. 

 

“It’s left quite a lot to debate!” Quinn added.

 

“We were hoping you could fill in some of the details,” Clio said as all three women set pens and paper onto the table. “Could you to start by telling us exactly where-”

 

Teagan threw a hand over Clio’s, and then fixed Goodnight with her intense and serious gaze again.

 

“Oh wailing goddess, we are being very rude. We apologize, Mer Robicheaxu. Your tale of a night with Great Forest Spirit Billy should of course be told first.”

 

Goodnight looked to Sam in panic, but Sam was too busy holding a wine glass out to one the servers.

 

“You don’t happen to have anything much stronger than this do you?”

 

* * *

 

Three hours later, and Goodnight was starting to hope one of the banshees _would_ stand and scream of impending death. When it became obvious that no help would be coming from his own people, and with Billy’s own curious eyes on him Goodnight had leaned into what he did best; talking.

 

(“Oh of course, Mistress Teagan. Nothing would please me more, but perhaps you ladies would like having some context? Let us begin at the beginning. I was born-”)

Which was how he’d gotten them all here, all the dinner courses come and gone, and with Goodnight only getting to the beginning of his first whale migration. He’d thought for sure they’d get fed up with him by now, but if anything they became more and more engrossed the more he talked.

 

Goodnight might have completely given up the ghost after the first hour if Billy hadn’t also been entranced by the tale of Goodnight’s life. Listening with such rapt attention that the shadows across his skin were still, and not one new flower had appeared in his hair. His knee wasn’t quite pressed against Goodnight’s, but he was so close that Goodnight could feel the heat of him under the table.

 

His own people, meanwhile, swung between boredom (Emma), disbelief (Sam), amusement (Faraday), and a blank look that may or may not have meant Goodnight was getting beheaded as soon as they got home (Red).

 

“Now the thing about a humpback whale migration,” Goodnight continued. “Is that they’re moving to warmer waters to give birth. Cold arctic seas are well and good for feasting on krill, but their babies wouldn’t last a moment in those temperatures. So-”

 

Someone began to sing. Goodnight stopped and twisted in his seat. Behind him Queen Cadenza was standing at the edge of the dais with her arms stretched forward, and her palms up. Her voice was velvety soft, and so lovely it made Goodnight want to cry. Opus took a position next to her, and joined both hand and voice with the other woman. Table-by-table, banshee-by-banshee the rest of the room took up the song, something that began low and soft, but rose in pitch and volume as the singing continued. When the last note had drifted away the queen clapped her hands together, and nodded to her court.

 

“Before our dinner meal comes to a close are there songs that should be shared?”

 

Usually, at least one or two banshees would pop up to sing a brief song of remembrance, request assistance on a project or announce a new wrestling challenge, but today there was silence.

 

Billy stood, and Goodnight thought he saw a banshee start recording a video on her phone.

 

“I have an announce-,” Billy began.

 

From across the hall, Goodnight saw the Mistress of Etiquette give Billy the frostiest of glares. Billy coughed, and then started again.

 

“I mean, I have a song I’d like to share.”

 

He bowed low to the banshees in the hall, and then again to queen and consort.

 

“It’s been more seasons than I can count since I’ve visited,” Billy said. “Your majesty, as a show of my affection and respect I would like to offer a gift. I already grew you another tree, but if you want anything please speak now.”

 

Queen Cadenza bowed to Billy, and then stretched one long arm out to their table.

 

“Such an opportunity would usually send me to my chambers to reflect, and then to my esteemed counselors to seek aid. However, I believe that in this instance that will not be necessary.” Her eyes circled the Mer table. “We have been in great talks with our new friends. A people of the far away ocean who we hope will sing in harmony with us for many centuries through fair and just trade.”   

 

“What’s happening?” Emma said under her breath.

 

“We find though that our greatest hurdle in these talks is transportation. There is no easy path between the great ocean, and our mountain home. The way is long, difficult and dangerous. We are not humans. We have no need for highways and paved roads. We would never be so bold as to alter the rhythms and melodies of the forest for such a path. However, as the representative and manifestation of the forest it is within your power. Great Forest Spirit, I ask that you create a path through the forest to the oceans that is safe in all seasons, and open for travelers though your woods.”

 

A chain of lavender flowers that Goodnight didn’t recognize wound itself around Billy’s temple and forehead like a crown. Carefully he pulled the circlet off. Queen Cadenza knelt at the edge of the dais and bowed her head.

 

“Done,” Billy said, crowning her with the circle. “By the first rays of the new day this song will be sung.”

 

The purple flowers continued to move and twist in the queen’s dark hair. At first, Goodnight thought it must be a trick of the eye, but no. The flowers remained alive even as Billy dropped his arms and backed away.

 

“Hey Goody,” Billy called. “You want to watch me work?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Just so I’m clear, did you want me to braided the blossoms you gave me into my hair, right?”

 

At the very edge of where the banshee’s land ended, and the forest began Billy was stretching. He had one foot forward, the other back, and was reaching high into the air with clasped hands while tilting backwards. It was a move Goodnight recognized as Sky Archer from the yoga classes he’d seen on the beach back home. His naked toes dug into the soft earth, and small green shoots of new life were winding around his ankles.

 

“No,” Billy said, eyes closed in concentration. “I wasn’t making a bargain with you. I was just giving you a gift. No strings attached.”

 

He cracked a brown eye open. “Did you _want_ to make a bargain with me?”

 

A patch of grass died under Billy’s feet, and was immediately resurrected upon hearing Goodnight’s reply.

 

“Nah. Just want to make sure I’m not causing an international incident.”

 

Unwinding himself, Billy stood and rolled his neck from side-to-side.

 

“Why would you cause that?”

 

Behind them, the entirety of the banshee court and visiting Mers had gathered. Sam was right at the edge, farther out than anyone but the queen. He pointed to his own eyes, and then emphatically pointed at Goodnight.

 

“No reason.”

 

Balancing on his right foot, Billy pressed the left foot against his calf and raised his arms.

 

 _Tree pose_ Goodnight thought, completely unable to keep a ridiculous smile off his face.

“Also,” Goodnight said. “Not to sound like a jealous lover, but I can’t help but notice that a banshee king has been brought up several times.”

 

Billy gently swayed from side-to-side, his arms making a V that Goodnight could see the full moon through.

 

“Conner?” Flowers the delicate shade of a pink blush escaped from Billy’s hair, and made a linking chain down his back.  “Yeah, he was very found of trees. He and Aoife started visiting me around their 100th birthdays. I grew the East half of the woods for them as a wedding present.”

 

“Right, well not to be an ignorant so-and-so, but-”Goodnight waved his arm behind him. ‘We were under the impression that all banshees were women. That’s what all of our records say.”

 

Billy put both feet back on the ground, and shrugged. “Mostly they are. Every once and a while one of them realizes they’re not. One of them just happened to be Connor, and Connor was royalty.”

 

Goodnight took his jacket off, and spread it across the ground. If this was going to take a while he was going to get comfortable. “That didn’t cause a ruckus?”

 

“Nah, banshees are as old as the mountain and there’s always been a handful who figure out they’re men. It’s in the historical records. Now if he’d tried to get the seating chart disbanded that would have caused a civil war.”

 

Goodnight nodded slowly. After this he was going to stop sulking and start updating their own records. They’d gone into this trade deal as blind as cavefish, and if relations were going to stay good they couldn’t remain that way.

 

“Okay,” Billy said. “I think I’m ready.”

 

Crouching he dug a shallow hole into the earth, and buried both of his feet in it.

 

“Goody,” Billy said. “I’m going to be very tired after this. I might sleep for a few days.”

 

Goodnight kicked his shoes off to the side.

 

“Do you want me to get you home? What part of the forest do you live in? I can carry you home no problem.”

 

Billy looked confused, and then waved at the tree line. “I don’t _live_ there. I _am_ that. There’s no taking me home because I’m always home.”

 

Questions of forest sentience had never been something Goodnight needed to noodle over before, and starting now would probably leave him with a headache. So, for the moment he decided to ignore all 119 questions floating through his brain.

 

“Then what do you need from me, _cher_?”

 

“Will your trade delegation still be here when I wake up? Or will you leave once this is over?”

 

Goodnight leaned back on his hands, and looked up at the figure that was Billy Rocks, haloed in moonlight, and with a streak of dirt across his cheek.

 

“I don’t know what the rest of the delegation is thinking, but I plan on being here for the foreseeable future.”

 

Billy’s grin was bright as a flash, and just as lovely.

 

“Good.”

 

He faced away from Goodnight then, lifted his arms into the air and began to grow. Skin became bark as he stretched tall to the sky. His right arm snapped and twisted into a long thick branch, but before his left arm could join it Billy pulled the pin from his hair. It fell down his back in inky black tendrils that, in turn, lifted and stretched until they became the multitude of branches in one of the strongest and most solid trees Goodnight had ever seen. Leaves began to unfurl, and when it was done they'd blocked the bright moon and the clusters of stars above their heads.

 

Then the ground shook, and a smell hit Goodnight’s nose. Water. Clean water. Fresh water. Not exactly what Goodnight longed for, but so close it felt as though his entire body was being lit up from the inside at that glorious sent. He could see it now, the water that bubbled up at the forest’s edge. Not spraying like a geyser, but unraveling itself like a bright, glittering ribbon as it wove between the trees, rushing down the mountain side and out of sight. 

 

The shaking lasted only a few seconds, but when it was over a new smell hit Goodnight's nose. It was faint, and for anyone but a Mer it would have been undetectable, but Goodnight was old and powerful, and blindfolded in a desert he would have known which way to walk to find the sea. The way home was down this river, and Goodnight knew then that while this new, beautiful change to the forest may have been a gift to the banshees, it was also an invitation addressed to him and only to him.

 

Absolute thunderous applause broke out, and the tree that was Billy began to shrink. He transformed at a speed that made Goodnight’s stomach twist, and fell onto the earth with a thump, feet covered in mud and fast asleep. As Goodnight gently lifted Billy into his lap the banshee’s began to sing. Goodnight knew this one. A song of thanks they’d sung on their first night as visitors.

 

As the song picked up voices and strength, Emma and Faraday practically trampled Goodnight on their way to cannon ball into the newly created river.  The splash they created soaked Goodnight through, and he mopped water away from his face, laughing. The suede shoes were drenched and ruined.

 

 _Oh what a shame_ , he thought. And then before anyone took notice he flipped the shoes into the shallow hole that had been cradling Billy’s feet, and shoved a layer of dirt over them.

 

A hand landed on his shoulder and Goodnight jumped.

 

“I know how that looked, but I-,” he looked up to see Sam shaking his head, and smiling.

 

“Sam.”

 

“Goodnight.”

 

Vazquez, Red, Teddy and Horne walked past them shedding ties, cufflinks, jackets, pocket squares, watches, shoes and socks as they headed for the water. A steady stream of banshees led by Queen and consort was also following suite, singing all the while, and Goodnight suspected that very soon he would be the only one left with a stitch on.

 

“You getting in the water?”

 

Billy was a warm weight against him, dead to the world, and snoring softly

 

“Nah, I’ll wait. You go ahead.”

 

Sam grabbed him by the shoulders, and planted a fat, wet kiss on his cheek.

 

“High tides! Get off me, Sam!”

 

Cackling, Sam gave him a hard shake, and then headed for the river.

 

“You do make the most interesting friends!” He called over his shoulder. 

 

“We are not friends. We are definitely a courting couple at this point!” Goodnight shouted. “And you never answered me about the shark teeth. Sam? SAM!”

 

Goodnight huffed, and then gently rested a hand against Billy’s back. The jacket was wet, but otherwise unharmed, and Goodnight traced the embroidered vines along the silk with his fingers. He’d need to get Billy inside soon. Water was balm and tonic to Goodnight, but he wasn’t sure what an entire forest catching cold would look like, and wasn’t in a hurry to find out.

 

Rolling him to the side, Goodnight pushed Billy to his knees and tried to keep him from toppling back. Billy’s wet hair was plastered to his face, and Goodnight was trying to pull him over his shoulder when a pair of bright pink Crocs came into view.

 

“Hello there Goodnight,” Horne said in his soft, high voice. “Need some assistance with your forest?”

 

Following Horne, Goodnight stopped just before entering the palace to fully take in the sights of the night. The banshees hadn’t stopped singing, though a much bawdier song had started up, and he could make out the flash of colorful fins in the moonlight which meant the other Mers were relaxing. A river to the sea meant trade and prosperity for his people, but also meant a new relationship with the banshees. It meant travel between the two groups was about to become a lot more regulated, and Goodnight would float belly up before he agreed to let anyone but himself be in charge of this new project. He found himself feeling rather protective of this new river, and the forest it ran through. Someone had to make sure no one got any strange ideas.   

 

Sticking his hands into his pockets, and whistling cheerfully Goodnight made his way into the halls. While Billy slept he had a few rooms to raid. If at least Teddy hadn’t packed shark teeth and pearls he’d dig up, and eat those blue suede shoes of his. Laces and all.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Thank you everyone who enjoyed this story and left a comment! I always appreciate them. 
> 
> -For the life of me I have no idea what these two groups are going to trade with each other. Fish? Gems? Rocks? Dreams? Seriously, no idea. Not saying there isn't anything they could trade, but if you're wondering please know that I have no idea.

**Author's Note:**

> -I was going to be one of those responsible fic writers who doesn't post another WIP when she's got at least four other WIPS to finish, but I've had this full first chapter written for too long so....nuts to that.
> 
> -Yes, I made banshee lesbians. Yes, I'm very pleased with myself.


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